


Hate (better title in the works

by CurrentlyaFamder



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Blood and Gore, Drowning, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insanity, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurrentlyaFamder/pseuds/CurrentlyaFamder
Summary: (Based off several Resident Evil 7 songs! I'm going to get many things off-canon because I've never played the game personally and I don't plan to, so keep that in mind)When Thomas' car breaks down on the way to a family get-together, he finds solace in a run down-house inhabited by a rather unsettling family. He thinks nothing of it-until he notices the figures following him, and he finds a horrible truth...GET OUT.





	1. Declyn's story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for Halloween, I'm gonna post some of my horror Sanders Sides story! It's not done yet, but I'll get back to it once I chip through every other story I want to post.

(SERIOUS TWS: violence, death, descriptive gore, cannibalism, drowning, mature language, insanity and inbreeding WILL be mentioned in this story. PLEASE do NOT read this story if any of this makes you uncomfortable/triggers you. If you're okay with this and are ready for the occasional feels and morbid horror, by all means go ahead.)  
Declyn. Logan. Patton. Roman. Then Virgil.  
5 people missing, all spaced out over 5 years. Their fate unknown, all 5 police cases have been cold for years. Their families have grieved for them, their friends have done things in their honour, the world has moved on.  
But they haven't.  
They're stuck, sympathetic monsters who died in horrible ways brought on by a twisted family who promised them a safe haven.

Declyn was first. He was on the run at 17, escaping from a toxic family.  
He tapped the steering wheel to the tune of REM's "it's the end of the world as we know it" as he drove. His eyes of different colours watch the road as he drove his stolen car, indifferent to the emptiness of the country road. The less people saw the abused teen, in his opinion, the better.  
A car seemed to appear out of nowhere, making him wrench his steering wheel to the side.  
A harsh crash earlier, he was surprised he was still alive. The driver hadn't seem to give a damn that they'd run the teenager off the road, speeding by without so much as checking the wreck.  
"Jeez!" Declyn hissed at the wreckage. The front of the car was folded in on itself after hitting the ditch. He sighed and patted the car's side. "Well, we had a good run...Looks like I'm going on foot."  
He grabbed his black bag from the back seats and headed off.

An hour of walking later, just when the sun was starting to set and Declyn thought he'd have to spend the night in a ditch, a house loomed ahead. Even from out here he could tell it was abandoned, having spent a fair amount of his childhood exploring abandoned houses with his friends. Salvation!  
Filled with determination-and maybe a little bit of foolish hope-he jogged towards the decrepit old building.  
A light in a window told him the house was actually inhabited, it was just old. His heart sank. He almost walked by the old building until a woman's voice cried out "come sleep in here, stranger! You don't want to sleep in a ditch, do you?"  
"Not particularly," Declyn responded shyly. The woman opened the front door wider and motioned him inside. "Come in! I've just finished supper. You must be hungry, walking down this long road."  
He was pretty hungry, come to think of it. His last meal had been at a shady fast food place, which also ate the last of his money. And the women didn't seem so bad-she had yet to comment on the snakey hiss in his voice the kids at school always bullied him about.  
He pulled up the hood on his black hoodie to hide his green eye and ducked his head as he walked in. The woman closed the door behind him.  
The house looked so homey on the inside Declyn almost cried. Everything was warm and made him feel welcome, like he belonged here. A huge man took his bag-noting his frightened look, he chuckled. "Don't worry, kid," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm just putting it in the guest room."  
"Never mind Parry-come! Sit!" The woman pulled Declyn by his sleeve into the cute little kitchen, where meat was sliced and ready to be eaten and salad sat in a cow-shaped bowl. Declyn's stomach voiced it's appreciation to the two choices. He blushed at the woman's laugh and ducked his head, embarrassed.  
"Oh, you are so cute," she cooed, pinching his cheek. "Why don't you take off your hood? Stay a while, at least eat something."  
Before he could protest, the woman flipped his hood off his head. He instantly covered his green eye-too late.  
"Your eye!" She gasped. "It's a different colour!"  
"It's a contact!"  
"Parry, come look at this!"  
To Hell with the food. Declyn turned and ran, opening the first door he came across.  
His green eye was suddenly the least of his worries.  
A human corpse was strung up upside down, several pounds of meat already taken from it. He looked back at the meat on the table and suddenly felt sick.  
"Ah, yes, the last fellow..." The woman stepped up beside him, shaking her head with a tsk. "It's a shame, really. He was so young, so full of life, but he was too cocky. He asked too many questions."  
"What ARE you?!" Declyn screamed, jumping away from the woman. She put a soft hand on his arm. "You understand, don't you? We can't raise cattle on this dead grass, and we have to eat something..."  
"You're SICK!!!"  
"Something wrong?" The man-Perry-walked in. He took one look at Declyn's scared face and his face clouded.  
Declyn backed away, jumping back when he bumped into the woman and knocking over a hand-blown vase. He didn't care about the vase. He had to leave.  
"No, please, don't run away," the woman begged. "Sasha's so lonely, and you'll never make it out-"  
"You're crazy! You and your husband!" He stumbled over a chair, keeping both people in his line of sight. When his back finally hit the door, he twisted the knob and took off.  
He heard the woman argue with her husband as he ran, her husband roaring over her easily. "Let's see if Speedy Gonzales can out run a four-wheeler!"  
For once in his life, he was grateful that his dad forced him into track-and-field. He ran through the forest around the back of the house, jumping over logs and rocks that would surely trip up a four-wheeler with a heavily muscled man on board.  
The roar of the four-wheeler was more inspirational than any song any writer could ever make. Keeping distance between that thing was a life-or-death situation-if Declyn so much as stumbled once, he was as good as dead.  
He found himself praying as he started getting winded from running hard. "Please, god, let the fucking thing blow up. I don't wanna die. I'll go home, I promise, please-give me a break, just one little spark-"  
A gunshot rang out and a tree made a startling 'thud', knocking the teen's concentration. Holy shit, the man had a gun!  
Adrenaline kicked in again, forcing his tiring muscles to kick into overdrive. The trail Declyn had picked out in his mind was starting to blur from panic. 'I'm gonna die, this is how I die, why did I leave, why didn't I keep walking-'  
Another gunshot rang out, followed by a searing pain in his leg. Declyn cried out and fell down a short hill. He hugged his leg and put pressure on the bullet wound as he heard the four-wheeler come to a stop.  
He bit his sleeve to hold back sobs as the man's footsteps started walking around. "Come out, little speedster, where are you~?" He called.  
"I've gotta say, I'm impressed! No one has ever managed to last this long before. You must be tired, as well as sore from the hole in your leg. Why don't you come out, I'll take you home and get you all patched up."  
'You're mad,' Declyn thought venomously. 'You and your entire family are fucking mad. You make my family look like a normal suburb couple!'  
The man cussed a little. Declyn could pick out the words 'slippery bastard' and 'burn him alive when I see him'.  
The four-wheeler drove away. Declyn spat out his sleeve, sat up and rested against the hill, letting himself cry a little before getting up. Fuck, it hurt. Everything hurt.  
He limped off down the continuing path, having to physically lift his leg over obstacles now. Every step felt like lightning striking up his leg, making him sore and tired very quickly. He tried not to complain about it and resolved that if he ever got out of here alive, he was going to church as soon as the hospital let him out again and becoming a hardcore Christian.  
The forest sounds around him got thicker, almost wrapping him in a shield of nature's power. He'd look around if he wasn't bleeding profusely and running-well, limping-for his life.  
He had to sleep.  
A tree soon came into view, it's roots perfect for resting his wounded leg against. It wasn't the most comfortable but taking pressure of his leg was a tremendous relief.  
He drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Crunching footsteps woke him again. He momentarily forgot where he was and stretched, then hissed and grabbed his leg as it reminded him what souvenir he had recently acquired.  
"So, you decided to take a nap."  
A familiar voice made his blood run cold. He prayed it wasn't who he thought it was and turned around.  
Perry stood behind him, a hatchet in one hand and a sick grin across his face. His heart sank.  
"You know, I don't like when my prey gets away from me. It makes me feel things that make me more dangerous." The man watched Declyn painfully get up, then pushed him back against the tree. "But when it gets itself caught in the perfect killing spot? Things just get more fun~"  
"Please...I won't tell-"  
The hatched swung towards him. He barely avoided being scalped by ducking.  
"Aww..." The man knelt down, tilting Declyn's head up after freeing his hatchet from the tree. "What's wrong, little coyote? Are you crying because you're afraid of me?"  
"Y-Yes..."  
The man smiled evilly, pulling a syringe with a strange blue liquid out of his back pocket. "Don't worry...You won't feel a thing."  
Declyn squeaked when he jabbed the syringe in his neck, then started feeling dizzy. He barely registered the hatchet swinging at his forehead.  
Everything went black.

"He's waking up! Stay back!"  
His head hurt. "Last time I'm sleeping on the floor," he murmured, sitting up slowly. He stretched and looked around, confused as to why he couldn't see.  
"Another one bites the dust," a voice said. Funny, as soon as they spoke, he could see...  
"Where am I?" He asked. He only remembered his car crashing, then waking up here. "Is this a hospital? Why can't I see?"  
Forms took shape as he spoke. A small one walked up to him. "This is not hospital, Blank. This is your new home."  
"My name's not Blank-what do you mean? What happened to me? Why can't I see?"  
"Get him a mirror," the small form muttered to a taller one. "Your name is Blank. It doesn't matter what you were called before. Your old life doesn't matter. Your new life will never end."  
Declyn started to panic. "What do you mean? Who are you?! Where am I?!!"  
An item was brought in front of him. "Look in here," a voice said, helpfully restoring his strangely-operating vision. He leaned foreword and inhaled sharply.  
His face was totally blank-no eyes, nose, or mouth. Just smooth skin. He screamed and shot backwards. "WHAT IS THAT?!!"  
"That's you," the small figure said simply.  
"That's not me!! I have-I have two eyes, and a nose, and-"  
"They took them. They stole them from you. Now you can only see when you or someone else speaks."  
Declyn's breathing hitched. "I want to go home," he whimpered.  
"Oh spare me the waterworks, you can't even cry."  
"I'm dreaming-you're playing a cruel trick on me, get me out of here!"  
"There's not way out. Those of us who can see have tried."  
"I'm too young to be a body horror!"  
This set off the small figure, who jumped on him and pinned him down. "YOU'RE too young?! Look at you!! You must've been-what? 15? 16?"  
"S-Seventeen-"  
"17! You had 17 years! Not my fault you fucked up and came here! You know how old I was when I came?! I WAS 3!!!"  
"That's enough, Batter. Let him up," a soft female voice said. The short form got off Declyn and let him scurry back into a corner.  
A female figure followed him, kneeling in front of him. "Hey..."  
"Go away," Declyn sniffed.  
"Never mind Batter. He thinks he's the boss, but he's not. Just because he's the first one this happened to."  
"Leave me alone..."  
"Listen, sweetie, if you need support...Don't be afraid to ask for it. We will support you. Just don't go to Batter or he'll rip your head off."  
Declyn was silent for a bit. He lifted his head. "Is it true?"  
"Is what true?"  
"A-Am I never going home?"  
The female sighed. "Yes. I'm so sorry, but we're stuck here until the end of time."  
"SLUT!! We've got another one!!" A voice called.  
Slut sighed, then offered Declyn a motherly smile. "Come see me if you need anything."  
She stood and left. Declyn pulled up his knees and dropped his head into his hands.  
Why did he think things would be better if he ran away...


	2. Patton's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (SERIOUS TWS: violence, death, descriptive gore, cannibalism, drowning, mature language, insanity and inbreeding WILL be mentioned in this story. PLEASE do NOT read this story if any of this makes you uncomfortable/triggers you. If you're okay with this and are ready for the occasional feels and morbid horror, by all means go ahead. LAST WARNING!)

Next was Patton. He was a bright, cheerful kid, his parent's pride and joy. He was in his own car with a golden retriever in the passenger seat, off to his dream collage to get his dream job.  
"I'm so excited, Dolly!" He chirped to the dog beside him. "We're so close! Nothing can go wrong now!"  
Of course, he also had an oblivious habit of tempting fate. Less than 5 miles down the country road, he ran out of gas. He pushed his car off the road, retrieved his two bags and tried to hitchhike to his destination(which was written on a small whiteboard intended for his room).  
On a road as desolate as this one, it was practically impossible. Dolly milled around him as he stood for minutes on end, raising his sign and waving his arm when he saw a car come by. He was always ignored.  
He stared down at his sign at the third hour mark, sitting against his suitcase with frustrated tears forming in his eyes. Today was going so well! Why did it have to end like this?!  
A tear dropped onto his sign. He wiped it off, smudging the letters. He growled in hopeless frustration, threw the sign aside and grabbed his phone to call the police to pick him up.  
Phone was dead. There probably was no signal, anyway.  
It learned to fly across the road. Patton dropped his head on his knees and ground his teeth, refusing to cry over such a bad bump in his future.  
The sound of an engine pulling up and Dolly's barking made him look up. A muscly man on a four-wheeler looked down at him. "You okay, son?"  
"Y-yeah, I..." Patton sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I'm just stuck here...My car ran out of gas..."  
"Getting dark out. C'mon, hop on. I'll take you to my home."  
Patton looked up, hope shining in his chestnut eyes. "R-Really?"  
"Come on. I'll drive slow enough so the dog can keep up."  
The man, who introduced himself as Perry on the way, eventually pulled the four-wheeler up to an old farm house. An enticing smell came through the front door as they walked up to it. Patton hadn't realized he was hungry until his stomach growled. The man smirked in response.  
A woman was waiting for them at the door, opening it eagerly. She was pleasantly round and Patton instantly liked her, reminded of his own mother at home. "Another weary traveller! You're just in time, I just finished supper. Come in, come in!"  
She waved the two men and dog inside, shutting the door and locking it behind them. This struck Patton as odd, but then maybe it was part of their household thing-like his mom always left the radio on for Dolly when she and Patton had to leave the house.  
He dropped his bag on a couch and noticed a family album on the table. "What's this?"  
"Oh, it's our family album. Go ahead and look through it, I'll look after your things."  
Patton felt oddly about handing off Dolly to a stranger, but she seemed happy enough, so he let Perry take her and his things. He sat on the couch and pulled the (surprisingly heavy) photo album into his lap.  
Flipping through it, they at first just looked like another family. They were a big happy one-odd, since he's only met Perry and Margret-the round woman-so far. But maybe the others are out working. It is a farm house, after all, and he recalled a fenced-in area.  
He shifted his weight and flipped a fateful page, his breath catching when he saw one of the pictures.  
It was Perry and a little girl-named 'Sasha', judging by the caption-both holding large meat cleavers. Both were smiling happily, Sasha showing several telltale gaps in her mouth where her baby teeth came out.  
But she had no eyes.  
Patton flipped through the album, eyes widening at every picture of the eyeless little girl. In a picture captioned '5th bday!!', she seemed to have lost her nose as well.  
The last picture seemed to be present day, with 'Sasha' being little more than a skin-covered skeleton. Patton gulped in air he didn't know he was holding.  
He slowly slid the last picture out to show the police and elected to leave, run for the next town, and alert them of the inbreeding family right away. He was just returning the album to the table when Margret walked in. She seemed concerned. "What's wrong, sweetie?"  
"I-I'm sorry, I have to go." Patton stood, stopped by Perry's figure stepping in front of him.  Perry pushed him back onto the couch. "Oh but you can't leave yet!" Margret chirped. "I want you to meet our young daughter. She's about your age, you see-"  
"I don't care, let me GO!!" Perry moved to hold Patton down, cursing when he slipped by him.  
He almost plowed into Sasha, who promptly squealed in hungry excitement. Patton jumped up and ran down the hall, taking out a window to escape.  
Sasha ran fast, easily keeping up with him. He found himself tripped and sprawled on his front, then flipped over to come face-to-face with the body horror that Sasha had become. She was grinning...And drooling.  
Patton slammed his knee into her crotch, making her scream in pain and roll off. He ran for the highway towards the sound of a running engine and stood in the middle, waving his arms to beg for help.  
Unfortunately, 18-wheelers can't stop on a dime. Especially ones driven by people who text and drive.  
Margret and Perry winced upon seeing the damage. Patton was ripped right in half, his upper half almost crushed by the force of the truck. Checking on him revealed he was miraculously still alive, albeit barely.  
A shot of blue liquid and a lot of stiches later, Blank and crew had a new addition...Slinky.


	3. Chapter 3

Third to meet a sad fate was Logan. Barely pushing 30, he was a high school teacher heading out to get good pictures of the stars for his science class.  
He was not disappointed. The sky was sprinkled with stars uninterrupted by city sights, enough so his space camera could snap away and he could secretly marvel at them.  
He'd parked his car to get some good shots, spent some time lying on the hood to daydream and study the stars on his own time, then prepared to return home...Only to find his truck had conveniently stalled miles from civilization.  
While there was no cell service, he couldn't call for help. After a string of words not befitting his usually stoic personality, he grabbed his ID, wallet and phone and set off to find a house with a working phone along this strip of road.

Finally, after minutes of walking, a house came into view. Logan silently hoped that a, it wasn't abandoned and b, the inhabitants had a phone that was in business.  
Knocking on the door heeded no response for some time, until a plump woman answered the door. She was wiping her hands on a very dirty apron. She smiled brightly at the taller man. "Hello! My name is Margret, can I help you?"  
"Greetings. I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a working phone?"  
The woman looked up, then seemed to blush. She smiled shyly and nodded, motioning him in. "I-I'll show you where. First of all-would you like something to eat? You're very thin..."  
"Just the use of a phone would be appreciated. My vehicle unfortunately failed along the side of the highway and I need to call a tow truck to pick it up and take it to town."  
"Oh, please? You need meat on your bones."  
Logan paused, then shrugged. A small snack as he waited wouldn't hurt. The woman clapped her hands and bustled off to the kitchen.  
Logan walked around the house a little, noting that there was an abundance of cow decorations. Little china figurines, painted pictures, decorative dishware, even the couch cushions were cow-patch patterned. Someone likes cows.  
But the house notably lacked even a single phone. There was a spot on the wall where a phone used to be, but it was ripped off to little more than a few wires. Logan sighed. It appeared he'd have to accept the woman's treats and then continue his search elsewhere.  
The front door opened to a big burly man, who Logan had some difficulty hiding his disgust in. He looked like he lived on steroids, for Christ's sake. The man seemed as happy to see Logan as Logan was to see him, giving him a venomous glare before storming off to the kitchen.  
Logan was now deeply unsettled. He decided to go into the kitchen after the man came out with a beer and be more direct with the woman for a phone.  
She was happily cutting up an apple when he came in. "Hello~! I'm almost done!"  
Logan sighed, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "Please, miss, I just want access to a phone. I can eat something when I get to town."  
"But it won't take much time, my boys just brought it in-"  
"I need a phone!"  
He felt bad about snapping at the poor woman...Until she turned to him with a look that clearly said he was wearing out his welcome. "It's in the side hall. Use it if you want it so badly, but I'm not saving any food for you."  
He bowed his head to show thanks and left.  
A door to the left making odd noises caught his interest. He opened it slowly, using his phone's flashlight to penetrate the darkness of what he thought was a basement.  
The light fell over a faceless teenager, a horribly disfigured toddler, a naked young female with her eyes sewn shut, a young man barely held together by stitches-among other disfigured people.  
Logan shouted in surprise, dropping his phone. He slammed the door closed and stumbled back, expecting the mutilated humans to break through it at any moment. After a few moments of silence, he steeled his spine to move again.  
A red plastic phone sat on an end table, promising salvation. His predicament forgotten for the time being, he dialed 911 on a whim. A serious of beeps caused him to stop. "Disconnected?!"  
He pressed multiple buttons in a futile attempt to make it work, only stopping when something solid met with the back of his skull.

 

He groaned when he regained consciousness. He blinked rapidly to fix his eyesight before checking his surroundings.  
He was tied to a chair in a musty-smelling place. Struggling earned him a punch across the jaw, then someone grabbed his hair and pulled his head up to look at him. The muscled man from earlier stared at him with burning coals in his eyes. "So, you yell at my wife and you think you get to report us?"  
Logan glared at him, gritting his teeth against the pain. The man dropped his head and walked off into the shadows, returning with a syringe of odd blue liquid...  
And a beaker full of a familiar green one.  
"You're a teacher, right?" The man asked. Logan nodded slightly to answer him. He was forced to look up again, the beaker waved in front of him. "I'll assume you know what this is, then?"  
Logan fought to remain emotionless. The man knelt down. "Tell me, teach...What do you think Citric acid does to the throat? It can't feel nice, can it?"  
Logan's eyes widened. The man smirked and forced his mouth open, pouring the acid down his throat and stabbing him with the syringe at the same time.  
Logan groaned in fear and pain, feeling his flesh bubble and peel away from the power of the acid. He would've begged the man to save him if his tongue wasn't being disintegrated by the second.  
Perry just watched, smirking in satisfaction as the teacher's jaw and throat gave way to the powerful acid. The monsters downstairs gained another to their ranks-a mute, acid-eaten man called Ruddy.


	4. Roman's Story

Roman was much like Patton-a collage kid, expect he was heading home for the holidays. He was driving a wreck of a rented car that was the most luxurious he could afford and wasn't at all surprised (though still plenty furious) when the rust-eaten hunk broke down in the middle of a highway.  
Luck seemed to be on his side, however. His pathetic excuse of a car seemed to have decided to break down right in front of a chipper little farm house.  
The drama collage student rang the doorbell, waiting patiently for help to open the door. A slightly old woman opened the door and smiled a toothy grin at the young man. "Ooh, fresh meat!"  
"Pardon my intrusion, but my car's broken down. I was wondering if I could be given to a ride to town?"  
"Of course! Oh, but my husband has the car. You'll have to wait. Come inside!"  
The woman stepped aside to let him in. Roman bowed is head in thanks and obeyed, wiping his feet on the cow-themed welcome mat.  
The house was smaller that it looked. The living room was really just a couch and coffee table, leading straight into the adorable little kitchen and a darkened room Roman couldn't make out. The woman rushed to close the dark room's door. "Whoops, sorry! I left the pantry open. Please, make yourself at home!"  
Roman didn't mind if he did.

The house was bigger than anticipated-and a lot murkier than the sunny living room and kitchen he came in to. The stairway he came across was covered with dust and spiderwebs, the rooms crawled with bugs...It was disgusting.  
And the basement was flooded. How lovely.  
He was wondering down a hall to investigate something flashing when fluttering started behind him. He turned to see the floor heave with a groan as multiple fluttering things burst out.  
He stumbled back as the swarm seemed to turn as one, directed towards him. He turned tail and ran as fast as he could, hoping to get around the corner before the bugs caught up with him.  
A massive grey bug-like thing flew past him, followed by two more. One flew past his feet and caused him to trip and land hard on another one. It cracked open like it was made of wood, green guts splattering all over his hand.  
Another one drilled into his head, resulting in another casualty. Roman ducked his head and covered it with his hands in an attempt to protect himself as others pelted against him.  
They seemed to be lightening up when someone suddenly grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. Roman's terrified eyes met the furious ones of a heavy-set man, who tightened his grip upon eye contact.  
"Why're you up here," the man snarled. Roman scratched at his hand. "Can't-talk-choking-"  
The man dropped him. He gasped for air before speaking. "I was...I'm just wondering what's here, she told me to make myself at home-"  
"Who."  
Roman's mind suddenly blanked. "Um-a woman-somewhere-"  
The man sneered, showing yellow teeth with black creeping out between them. Gross. "You really expect me to believe that my wife would ALLOW you to poke your nose somewhere it shouldn't be?"  
Roman bit his lower lip, squeaking in surprise when he was suddenly pulled from the wall. "You look like a princey type. Tell you what...I'll let you go if you do one thing for me."  
Roman tilted his head to the side. "Wh-"  
"Just one little thing." The man let him go, smacking his shoulder fondly. Roman winced at the impact as the man ducked into a room and came out with a heavily rusted sword. "Kill a dragon."  
"I-I'm sorry?"  
The man just smiled again, turning the sword over and pressing the hilt into his hand. "You'll need this."

A few moments later, Roman was feeling woozy from nervousness.  
The two men stood at the stairs of the basement, watching something green toil through the blackened water in a sheen of scales. Roman thought he was going to be sick.  
He looked at the man beside him, who just smiled nastily and nodded in encouragement. "What if I don't kill it?"  
"You drown."  
Roman blinked at the bluntness, taking a second to register. "You'll just let me die?!"  
The man huffed a laugh, pulling a syringe full of an odd blue liquid out of his pocket. "Or I could kill you now if you'd like. You don't look that strong, just hold you under-"  
"No! I'm going." Roman shook his head to get rid of his frightened thoughts. He's supposed to be the brave one in any circumstance!  
The man smirked. "That's more like it."  
Roman felt a small prick in the back of his neck before he was shoved in.

Perry watched with a sadistic smile as the young man struggled with his courage and fear in the face of their 'dragon'. The creature was always happy for a toy, dead or alive, and the old blade wouldn't hold it off forever.  
He gave the redhead 5 minutes, tops, until either the dragon grabbed him or he died on his own.  
A splatter of red caught his attention. He knelt down and peeked in the murky water.  
The dragon had impaled the young man with it's tail. Perfect.  
He waited for the ensuing bubbles to fade before jumping in to retrieve the poor SOB's body. The hidden monsters had another added to their ranks...Zombie.


End file.
